Silence settled over the table as both stared into the empty space of the pub. Although Minerva wanted to reject her brother's conclusions, his words had been arrows aimed directly at the center of her confusion.
"I know you, Mini. You can lie to yourself, but not to me," he stated gently.
She didn't want to accept it; she kept trying to convince herself otherwise, but she knew Malcolm carried a spark of truth. Perhaps she did feel something for Tom... maybe not in the romantic way her brother suggested, but she desired to see him safe with an intensity that frightened her. She tried to rationalize it: she told herself it was a maternal instinct, a connection born of having witnessed his fragility. That explanation granted her a momentary peace.
This small acceptance also seemed to untangle her scattered thoughts. Perhaps there was a solution. Tom simply didn't know another life, but that didn't mean he couldn't have one. Perhaps, if she managed to get him out of that place, she could adopt him, become his godmother, help him… and ease the weight on her heart that way.
In a way, it would be a form of penance for what had happened. Even if she wasn't truly responsible for that whirlwind of depravity, she still felt she had to do something. She was the adult who had allowed herself to be seduced; he was just a boy who knew nothing but squalor.
"Finished with your catharsis?" Malcolm asked after watching his sister trapped in her own labyrinth for a long while.
"More or less... you might be right about something, though not in the way you put it," she replied, opening her eyes with a regained serenity.
"Believe what you want, but between the two of us, I'm the risk-taker and you're the strict, foresightful one... It terrifies me what might happen if we switch roles," Malcolm took another sip of his whisky. "So, what's the plan? Will you do what everyone else who falls for a sex worker does? Forget it with alcohol or become a regular client?"
"Malcolm, you know perfectly well I am not that kind of person," Minerva reproached him with a cold stare. "I have to act. That place cannot continue to exist."
"Good luck with that. If they're as good at hiding as you say, it'll be nearly impossible to shut it down... unless you ask Albus for help," he suggested.
"It won't be easy, especially if there are so many influential people involved. But just because it's difficult doesn't mean it shouldn't be done," she declared with the firm determination that characterized her as Head of Gryffindor.
"Well, just so you know, I'm here if you need me," Malcolm offered.
"Actually... I might need you very soon," Minerva admitted, lowering her voice with ill-disguised embarrassment.
"Mmm... for what?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I don't think I can dismantle that place quickly..." she began, "but I would like to know how Tom is. And the other children, of course," she added quickly, trying to generalize.
"Heh, and you say you aren't in love?" Malcolm mocked, until realization hit him. "No! Minerva, don't even dream of it! I'm not doing it!"
"I just want to know if they are alright..." she pleaded with an almost imperceptible vulnerability.
"I can't go into that place! Isobel would kill me!" he replied immediately.
"It's just taking a look, asking some discreet questions... you don't have to do anything else. You can go through their shop, they have a lot of variety... perhaps you'll even find something Isobel likes," she insisted, fighting back a blush. It cost her a great deal to ask something like this of her brother.
"I am not going into that brothel, Minerva! If they managed to trick you, what do you think will happen to me?" he refused with genuine fear. "If I end up cheating on my wife with a courtesan, you'll be the one crying at my funeral... and then at yours for having sent me there."
"Yes... perhaps I'm not thinking clearly," she admitted, though the anxiety for Tom's safety continued to prick at her chest.
"Can't you just send him an owl? Something... normal?" Malcolm suggested, hoping to talk her out of sending him into the lion's den.
"I doubt he'd receive it. They surely monitor all his messages," she said with a frown and clenched fists. "They must not be allowed to communicate with the outside. That's how they control them, cutting all ties until they have no life left but that depravity."
"Aren't you being a bit... paranoid?" Malcolm asked, watching his sister with a mix of pity and concern. "I know love clouds the judgment, Mini, but you should think this through calmly. Are you sure that's how it is? Perhaps the situation isn't as dark as you imagine."
"It is a brothel that employs minors!" McGonagall affirmed, trying to give her anguish a solid moral foundation. However, hearing her own voice, she noticed the trace of hysteria her brother had mentioned. "I just... I'm worried."
"Look, you can investigate a bit more before storming the place with your wand held high," Malcolm suggested, trying to channel his sister's energy. "You said Hogwarts alumni are working there, right? Try to contact them casually, using any academic excuse. Check if they have a life outside that place. That way you'll confirm if they are confined or if it's a choice... and in the process, you might get information on this Tom who has your heart in a vice."
Minerva ignored the last jab, nodding stiffly. It was a feasible idea and much safer; a stinging reminder that her mind hadn't been functioning with its usual lucidity since she hadn't thought of it herself.
"Of course, you could also go in person to corroborate it," Malcolm added with a mischievous grin. "If you can control yourself, that is..."
"Malcolm!" she rebuked him, glaring. "I am not going back to that place." A trace of fear crossed her eyes. "Who knows what they might force me to do again..."
"You'd be better prepared this time. You'd know what you're facing and could take magical precautions. Besides, if they already have proof you were there, going back once more won't destroy your reputation much further if they decide to talk," he argued pragmatically.
Minerva didn't respond. The truth was that her reputation mattered little to her compared to the fear of falling back into Tom's bed... or something worse. She knew her brother was right and that she could protect herself, but she feared that if history repeated itself, she would sink permanently into the emotional pit she was barely managing to climb out of. Deep down, the fear she refused to admit was that her desire for the boy wasn't as "maternal" as she told herself, and that a new encounter would prove it irrevocably.
They continued talking until the whisky was gone and their throats were dry. They discussed Tom, the morality of the brothel, and Minerva's lonely life, finally allowing her the venting she so desperately needed. As night fell, they prepared to leave the pub.
"Thank you, Malcolm..." Minerva said, gazing at the starry sky over Hogsmeade. "I really needed to talk to someone. Thank you for everything."
"That's what I'm here for. You can always count on your brother," he laughed affectionately, resting a hand on her shoulder. "And... can I tell Isobel? Perhaps she'll have a different perspective and better ideas to help you."
"I'd prefer if as few people as possible knew, but... I trust your judgment. Tell her if you think it's right," she replied with a hint of shame, imagining how awkward the next family gathering would be.
"Alright. Be careful going back... and don't do anything crazy," Malcolm said in farewell. But after taking a few steps, he turned back with a final spark of mockery in his eyes: "But let me know if I end up having a brother-in-law younger than my own children!"
"Malcolm!" she growled, though this time she couldn't stop a small smile from touching her lips.
After watching him leave, Minerva regained her stern expression and looked toward the castle, but she didn't return immediately. Her brother's ideas had germinated into a concrete plan. She knew she wouldn't find peace without actively calming her anxiety. Without hesitation, she drafted a letter to Dumbledore requesting several days off with a firmness that allowed no rebuttal. For years she had carried burdens that weren't hers, and she decided that if Albus could delegate his work to her, she could demand a breather without giving explanations.
What Minerva did not suspect was what would happen at Hogwarts precisely during her absence...
...
Lying on a hill overlooking the landscape of the Fief, I contemplated the sky with a peace I hadn't felt in quite some time. To one side, the silhouette of the castle under construction. The partitioning of my power had been a success; and although I felt physically more vulnerable, I experienced an intoxicating freedom. Since I didn't have the energy to encompass everything, I had simply stopped trying. Even the number of clones I could maintain was now limited, which was an immeasurable mental relief. I knew it had been the right decision: this return to "weakness" forced me to regain my old strategist habits, to think before acting, and to squeeze every available resource to ensure victory.
It was an idyllic calm, until the echo of firm steps and a voice laced with venom interrupted it.
"Red! Tell Ismelda she better not dare cross my path again! You'd better control her or I swear I'll drive her own wand through her heart!"
I turned my head and found the figure of a nineteen-year-old girl whose beauty took one's breath away. Blonde, green-eyed, and with a distinctive mole under her left eye, she possessed that lethal elegance unique to her one-eighth Veela lineage. However, her expression was one of pure fury; small electric currents sparked from the wand she held, and the tension in her face threatened to explode.
I sat up slowly and patted my thighs, inviting her to approach. Cassandra grumbled, but she ended up taking her place between my legs, albeit with some difficulty.
"Calm down, Cassandra..." I murmured, stroking her hair gently.
"I'm serious! If she makes giant slugs come out of my ass again, I'll kill her!" she growled, behaving like a beast wounded in its pride.
"Wow... it seems Ismelda is making progress," I commented casually. Cassandra shot me a look that made me her next target. "I'm not saying what she did was right, just that she has improved a lot since her years at Hogwarts. At least she's creating... creative spells," I added, lowering my voice at the promise of death in her eyes.
"If she doesn't stop cursing me every time we disagree, you'll be the one to find out just how creative I can be!" she threatened, with that arrogance that came naturally to her.
"Alright, I'll talk to her," I said, raising my hands in surrender. "But I hope you all learn to live together, even in the worst moments. We're a family... Don't force me to give you another group erotic lesson so you learn to get along," I stated, trying to sound as threatening as I was seductive.
"Ha, so you say now..." she replied reproachfully, but she ended up wrapping her arms around my neck and resting her head on my shoulder. "Do you think we haven't noticed you're weaker? Perhaps you can still beat one of us individually... but if several of us team up, I assure you we'll leave your penis in a mess." She shot a direct challenge at me with her gaze. "In fact, there are already several groups conspiring to get revenge on you."
I couldn't help a genuine shiver. I held her tighter, feigning a pleading grimace for mercy, though inside I couldn't help but smile.